


Cleïs

by Merlin Missy (mtgat)



Category: The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Mothers and Daughters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:59:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/pseuds/Merlin%20Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a small<br/>daughter called<br/>Cleïs, who is<br/>like a golden<br/>flower<br/>I wouldn't<br/>take all Croesus'<br/>kingdom with love<br/>thrown in, for her<br/>- Sappho</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cleïs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meltha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meltha/gifts).



Molly never bore children of her own. There was a time, with the man before the man before Cully. Tom. Molly remembered the quickening, and she remembered the loss. There were no other chances. At the time, she'd raged against the unfairness. Now she knew it had been for the best. She was no one's mother. She might be variously a cook or a drudge or a dollygirl, but none of those made her fit or eager to have adorably filthy brats at her knee.

It was strange, at her time of life, to acquire a daughter. Amalthea shared not one drop of blood with Molly. The girl was tall and slim and fair. Molly was squat and skinny and red-raw-handed with dirty brown hair. Amalthea was a magical, mystical, immortal being briefly wrapped in lusciously soft human flesh. Molly was Molly Grue to the bone. Nevertheless, from the instant she'd wrapped Schmendrick's tattered cloak around the shivering, naked child (and she was a child, all gangling legs and newborn eyes that had yet to see a sunrise), Molly had taken it upon herself to be the girl's mother in all the ways that mattered.

"Eat," she said now, placing the plate in front of her. Amalthea ate only vegetables, and her hands made awkward use of knife and fork, as though she still expected them to be hooves.

"Why do I keep this body alive?" she asked. Her eyes were wild tonight, gazing on forests lost a thousand years past.

"Because it's the only one you have at the moment. Soon enough you'll be back to your old self." Molly watched her charge, the shape of her perfect face and the toss of her silvery mane. Schmendrick had caged a wild creature twice, first under order and second by magical happenstance. What he ought to do instead is cage that Red Bull and his mad king, and be done with the whole business instead of this creeping around the decaying castle. If Molly had her say, things would be different. But Molly had spent her whole life without having a say and she supposed that wasn't about to change now.

She said none of this to Amalthea. "Eat up," she coaxed.

Gingerly, Amalthea picked up her spoon instead of the rest. She was better with spoons. Molly watched her a moment, then took the plate. In a moment, she'd chopped the vegetables to a fine cut, easy for a girl with a spoon to scoop up.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I do not grant wishes." The unicorn took a bite of the vegetables. "If you are being kind to me because you hope I can give you a wish, I cannot."

Molly paused before speaking. From anyone else, the statement would have been incredibly rude. From an immortal child, it was merely a statement of fact, and perhaps an intended kindness. Do not be gentle with me because you hope for more, the girl thought. I have no more to give.

"I'm past wishes," Molly said lightly. She patted Amalthea's arm, and let the strands of her unicorn-soft hair tickle her own hand. Had she been granted a million wishes in her younger days, never a one would have asked for such a creature to be her daughter for a little while. She'd have lost something wonderful without ever knowing, would have traded this quiet evening for meaningless gems and empty-headed handsome suitors. It was just as well the unicorn had not come to Molly Grue when she was young and fresh and new herself. She'd have wasted the gift.

She patted her arm again. "Now, tell me about your day."


End file.
